


Positive Attention

by TheOtherEyeIsNotResponsive



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU where Whirl is not Rung's patient, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherEyeIsNotResponsive/pseuds/TheOtherEyeIsNotResponsive
Summary: Frustrated? Working too much? Cuddles may be the solution you’re looking for!Whirl visits Rung, and cuddles his favourite little mech to sleep.
Relationships: Rung/Whirl (Transformers)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Positive Attention

Whirl works hunched over his desk, frustration threatening to rear its ugly head again. _It’s the damn claws._ He takes a deep vent, steading himself. No need to get all pit-faced about this. 

He leans back in his seat, trying to find a new perspective on the project. It’s hard enough with the clocks he’s gotten _ok at_ making, but now with this new design feature he’s been trying to integrate… It just isn’t working. Like, at all.

The angles are all wrong, _thanks claws_ , and he’s unsure how to manufacture a tool to accommodate them. 

Yet. 

‘Yet’ is always the keyword to use when you don’t know what you’re doing, yet. It’ll come, he just needs to lean back, chill out, and figure it out. It’d just be cool if he could do that tonight while he’s still in the mood. 

An optic sweeps over the desk, and, nothing. 

He huffs in frustration and looks over at Rung’s picture. He should be getting ready for recharge soon, at least according to their shared schedule. 

The trust that mech has for him, sharing such intimate information...

Welp, here comes an executive decision, he thinks, swinging around the chair and propping up a leg on a box, dialing up the mech. Always good to check in. It's the least he can do. 

The call connects, and Whirl squints in suspicion. < hey, what u up to > Easy breezy, keeping it casual.

< Oh nothing, just catching up on some reading. >

Reading, oh uh, he usually reads late when something at work’s got him all hung up. < light, or heavy? >

< mm I’d consider it light >

Oh? Maybe he’s taken up that thriller recommendation? < anything fun? >

< Not particularly. Unless you’ve taken up a sudden interest in analytical psychology? >

< thats a nope from me there doc >

Rung chuckles from across the line. His presence, even from all the way across the ship, is calming. Grounding. 

He wonders what Rung would say about Whirl's presence. But, maybe that's a question for another day. 

He inspects a claw, reluctant to end the call, but too content to talk. The silence on the other side seems to indicate the same sentiment, even if he’s probably just gone back to reading. 

But really, the mech should in recharge. Or at least getting ready to plug in. Not reading work stuff, which always takes so long and overrides everything else he could’ve been doing in his free time. Should he even be doing work stuff after hours? Doesn’t he have like, coworkers to help with that or what. 

Not that his recharge has been very restful when he does take care of himself. Except, for a certain exception...

He pushes himself up. Stretching out the stiffness. Remembers the time and looks back, just as the display of clocks behind him reach the top of the hour simultaneously. 

Sweet, sweet satisfaction.

He idly picks something up and sets it down. < Hey mech? Remember that offer you made me a while ago? >

< Oh? There’s been a few hasn’t there, which would you be referring to? >

He shakes his helm and picks the item up again, bringing it up to optic level. 

It’s a small model of his altmod Rung had gifted him a while ago. Beautiful sculpt, expertly painted - a pure exhibition of the mech’s craftsmanship. No one can sit down day after day and focus on making something like that, without loving what they do and what they’re making. 

He sets it back down gently on the display mount. 

< uh, yeah, right > he says, dragging himself back into the conversation, surprisingly warm, < the uh, the physical one? >

< Oh! Do you mean cudd- >

Whirl hisses, checking the empty room for potential eavesdroppers < Aye don’t say it out loud! > with none to be found he continues, softer, < please? my reputation will crumble >

< Ah yes, of course of course > Rung replies with gentle understanding. 

There's a pause. 

< Though Whirl? > his beautiful smile audible as ever.

< yeah sweetspark? >

< We _have_ been dating for some time now, and I’d like to reiterate that you’re welcome to join me in my hab whenever you like. And that, yes you are absolutely allowed to take up that physical offer tonight. >

Whirl bounces on his pedes, lines bursting with excitement. Ok, maybe he’s looking for a little positive attention too. 

With nothing else to it, he snaps up a few items and bounds out the door.

< is it still romantic if I ask beforehand? >

< Oh yes, very. I’ll see you soon? >

\---

With confirmation from Whirl, Rung ends the call and straightens up. It’s such an unbearably good feeling to hear his voice again. And soon they’ll be together in the same room, unbound from time constraints and general weariness. But, there’s action to be taken before his arrival. The room needs to be prepared. 

He swivels around in his chair and takes a moment to assess the upper area of the room. It’s not very often they can get together like this, especially in this particular room, but even once is enough to get a handle on how to make the necessary adjustments for Whirl’s size. 

“What a treat!” he declares, tucking the datapad into subspace.

It’s easy enough for him to tuck the chair into the desk and maneuver the nightstand out of the way, allowing for an easy open space for the berth to expand. But, not so easy for the berth. It’s an older model and the expansion is slow, hydraulics straining. 

He hums an earth tune and digs out some extra pillows from within the bowels of the built-in couch storage while he waits. As they say, never underestimate a small room’s capacity for storage. 

The berth finishes with one last hydraulic hiss, and a cheery ding. 

In congratulations, he tosses the pillow one-by-one onto the berth's far corner.

He pauses for a moment, then flings himself after them. Landing with a soft _whumf_ and a barely suppressed giggle. 

He lays there, staring at the ceiling, smile fading from exhaustion. He sighs, rubbing his face. “I do not understand this journal at all.” 

He could always bring it up in the next meeting… 

“But that would mean,” admitting to his own confusion. Who even formats things like that! It’s as though they’re purposefully being pretentious. The academic mindset, my goodness. 

A thumping vibration spills around his servos. He stares at the door, straining his audials. A faint buzzing, growing louder -

He sits up, smile forming and excitement pooling within his stomach.

\- and forming a familiar _thwipthwipthwipthwip._

The sound barely slows before transforming and skidding to a stop just past the door. 

He waits. 

There’s a knock. 

Beaming with excitement, he sends the command, and the door opens to reveal the handsome blue mech named Whirl. 

His spark fills with love at the sight.

But his lover continues to stand there, hesitating. Shouldering the door open as it tries to close on him. Claws fidgeting. 

Rung pats the open spot beside him, and Whirl breaks free of his worries and joins him, sitting on the spot indicated. 

“Is there a particular position you’re keen on tonight?” Rungs asks.

Whirl stares down at him for a moment, optic unreadable, field rippling. 

Rung waits patiently. He knows Whirl has preferences, and he just needs to wait for the mech to vocalize them when he’s ready. 

“Can we, uh,” his vents sputter, coughing. He looks away, “can we do the spark-backrest thing?”

He peeks back to see Rung smiling warmly up at him, “yes, love. Position me how you like?”

Whirl nods once. Assesses the layout of the berth.

“Can you move here?” he asks softly, indicating with a claw. 

Rung complies, shuffling away from the wall and further into the berth. He looks up at Whirl. 

Whirl picks up a pillow from the designated excess pile in the corner, does his best to fluff it, and lays it down on Rung’s lap. 

He watches Rung all the while, keeping a strong eye out for any adverse reaction, any indication of him doing any harm. Even if he’s only fluffing a pillow. 

Slowly, and gently, careful of the claws - always careful of the claws, the larger mech lowers himself down next to Rung, cockpit pressing up against his right side, helm next to his. They stay there for a while looking at each other, breathing in the same exvents. 

Whirl shakes himself awake from the blissful revere first, and continues on.

He snakes his left arm around Rung's back, slowly finding its way to the smaller mech's thigh, then the pillow about that, and, sliding the pillow along, comes to rest on Rung's lower chassis. He shutters his optic, hoping this feeling will stay with him forever. 

His helm follows suit, resting on the pillow and nestling against the spark glass. Enjoying the warmth against the cold metal of his helm. 

In an unsaid agreement, it’s Rung’s turn to move. With effort, he repositions the rest of the pillows to fill the gap between his back and Whirl’s neck, resulting in a long sigh as he leans back into the cushy luxury. 

In response, Whirl’s stretched legs bend and close in around the smaller mech, knees coming up and opening for Rung to slide his pedes through the gap between his thighs.

With a final flourish, Whirl’s other arm comes up and rests on Rung’s legs. 

Now it's official, Whirl declares to the doubts of his mind, Rung is completely and comfortably nestled and there's nothing and no one around to disrupt it. What a day to be alive, and a night to truly live it. 

He squeezes his limbs around Rung, and releases with a sigh. As content as can be, his engine rumbles into a full body purr.

Rung stifles a laugh, then a yawn. “Are you comfortable dear?”

“Mmm absolutely. You’re so soft,” he replies, snuggling up against the thick warm glass, “and you?”

“Mhm, I am, thank you,” he answers, revelling in the comfort of the confined space. 

“Ok, you can get back to your reading, I’m just gunna … be here …” he drifts out, purr filling the silence. 

In answer, Rung lays a hand on Whirl’s helm and pulls out the datapad with the other, resting an elbow on the larger mech’s cockpit. 

They stay like this for the better part of an hour, the full weight of Whirl's warmth settling in around them, until at last, the datapad slips from his digits, and his helm slumps to the side. 

Whirl pulls him in tighter, noting, through the haze of almost-sleep, that they did manage to get to bed at a half decent time. He just hopes Rung will feel well rested, that tomorrow will treat him well, and that maybe … they'll have another chance to do this again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by @roboticscreen’s tweet!!](https://twitter.com/roboticscreen/status/1235277173176578050)  
> (check out their writing, they're amazing!)  
> -  
> So I tried out the whole, let the character’s actions speak for themselves instead of having thousands and thousands of words on their thoughts. How’d you think I do?  
> -  
> Comments and constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
